


Spark

by marginaliana



Category: Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: AU no families, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 07:40:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5577041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marginaliana/pseuds/marginaliana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a spark between them, from the first moment they all arrive off the red carpet in the foyer of the theatre.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [liz_mo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liz_mo/gifts).



It feels like tonight might be the night.

There is a spark between them, from the first moment they all arrive off the red carpet in the foyer of the theatre. Richard first, then James, then Jeremy, all within a few minutes of each other.

They make small talk about who they can spot in the crowd as they move to their seats. James comments that they are wearing all different ties, in inverse correlation to their height (Richard a regular tie, James a bow tie, Jeremy none at all), which is such a characteristically James sort of observation that Richard and Jeremy have to grin at each other for a long moment.

There is a spark in that grin, enough to make Richard think, yes, maybe tonight.

He's talked about it with James already, because he knows better than to spring something like this on him at the last minute. Talked around it first, sounding him out subtly, until James had stopped him one afternoon in the garage with bike parts strewn everywhere and said, "You don't have to keep hinting, Rich. I'm up for it." They'd kissed then, oil spattered and sweaty and all.

And then they'd stopped, because they'd both known it wasn't the same without Jeremy.

Richard thinks maybe James knows what he's thinking tonight, too. Mainly because of the vee of Jeremy's parted shirtfront, exposing just a hint of skin, a crinkle of hair. Richard can't stop looking at it, thinking about putting his mouth there, undoing the rest of Jeremy's buttons with his teeth like some terrible porn cliché. 

The third time, when he forces himself to look away, he discovers that James is looking there, too, with an almost hungry expression on his face. After a moment he jerks his gaze sideways and meets Richard's eyes, almost by accident. Richard waggles his eyebrows, and James goes red. Then he shrugs, as if to say, 'Well, can you blame me?' The two of them break into laughter, which is thankfully covered by the noise of the rest of the audience applauding at something or other.

"What?" hisses Jeremy. James just shakes his head, and after a moment Jeremy gives up trying to wheedle it out of them.

When they'd filed into their seats, James had maneuvered things so that Richard was in the middle. Richard had given him a look but hadn't argued. And he's glad, now, because it means he can lean back and let the two of them natter on over his head, commenting on whether they liked or didn't like the nominations, making bets about what cars all the celebrities arrived in. Sometimes Jeremy's arm bumps against his arm, James' knee against his knee. It's a good feeling.

Winning the award isn't quite as exciting as it might be, given that they've won it a couple of times already, but Jeremy is grinning fit to burst, obviously proud of his baby, and so Richard just smiles and trails him up onto the stage, finds something mildly entertaining to say when it's his turn at the microphone.

He's happier after, though, when they're backstage amid the bustle of the crew. There is someone there to welcome them, of course, and take the award, and shuttle them off back to their seats, but the backstage area is darkened, which means he can slip his hand into James' and squeeze hard, just once, and not worry about anyone noticing.

James squeezes back, and Richard returns to his seat with a smile on his face almost as big as Jeremy's.

After the rest of the awards show there is the after party, liberally supplied with good food and free alcohol. Richard drinks enough to keep himself happy but not enough to get rat-arsed, and is surprised to discover the others doing the same. He doesn't dare say anything to Jeremy about it, lest it be taken as a challenge, but he notices and is glad. 

When the party finally begins to wind down, they stumble out to the cab stand together. They are flushed with success and wine, and Jeremy makes no objection when Richard climbs in to the back seat beside him. James gets in the front and gives the driver his own address. 

Richard could swear later that they did a hundred and fifty through London; the ride passes that quickly. Jeremy tells some sort of anecdote the whole way, with James injecting occasional commentary from the front seat. To be honest, Richard is barely listening, too caught up in the stretch of Jeremy's thigh, just there, where he could put his hand on it if he were mad enough to try it on in the back of a cab. Which he isn't, quite.

When they arrive, Richard jerks his head in the direction of the front door and Jeremy scoots obediently out of the back seat. They lean against the side of the cab while James pays, then walk up to the door all together, jostling good-naturedly for the lead until James calls them both pikeys and steps forward with the keys.

Inside, Richard shucks off his tuxedo jacket and tosses it to James. Jeremy makes an approving noise and does the same; without the jacket he looks more louche, like he might have been out for a night in some dirty back room club instead of attending the National fucking Television Awards. 

Richard can feel himself beginning to shake, some combination of adrenaline and arousal coursing through him. He still isn't drunk – to be honest, he's sobering rapidly – but there's something of the same wildness to this feeling. Like anything is possible.

He meets James' gaze, sees an answering heat and anticipation there. James nods once, sharply. Jeremy says, "What are you two idiots up to?" with a laugh, but it turns into a gasp when they bracket him between them and James captures Jeremy's face in his hands. Jeremy's eyes go wide.

"Jez—" says James, no more than a breath, and then, "You can tell us to piss off, you know."

Jeremy swallows hard, but he doesn't say anything, even as James leans up and slowly, slowly, touches their mouths together.

From this close, Richard can see the kiss in near-pornographic detail – James' mouth full and lush, Jeremy's cheeks flushed red. It's a slow kiss, but intense, as if James is trying to convey all the things they probably will never say to each other, just by man contact. After a moment Jeremy's eyes flutter shut and he sways into it, his expression caught between shock and pleasure. Something in Richard's chest begins to ache at the sight of it, and he bites the inside of his cheek just to ward off the feeling of being left out. He wants to put that look on Jeremy's face himself, of course he does, but he also doesn't want to ruin the moment. There will be time enough. 

Eventually James breaks the kiss and leans back a little. They are all three of them breathing hard. "Have you both gone mad?" Jeremy says, looking between them, but his hand is sliding up Richard's back, holding him close as if _he's_ the one who might run screaming.

"Would that stop you?" Richard says, in his best cheeky manner, and is rewarded when Jeremy barks out a laugh.

"Probably not," Jeremy admits. He meets Richard's gaze and holds it for a moment, then seems to find what he's looking for and leans down. Richard goes up on tiptoe to meet him halfway. He can't make himself be as careful as James, not when things are already seeming so promising, but Jeremy doesn't seem to mind when he gets pushy. Richard licks into his mouth, slicks their tongues together, and Jeremy's hand goes clenched tight on his back as he groans into the kiss. Christ, it's good, even better than Richard's late-night, fevered imaginings just because it's real, because Jeremy is solid and warm and trembling against him.

When they finally pull away from each other, Jeremy is gratifyingly glassy-eyed. "And you two," he says. "That is— as much as my ego would like to assume this is entirely a result of my massive sexual magnetism—"

Richard bursts into laughter and he hears more than sees James giving Jeremy a clip around the head. "Pillock," James says, but with such fondness in his voice that it makes Richard want to burst with happiness. Richard turns to look at him, still chuckling, and finds him with a smile on his face. Suddenly it is as if he is ravenous for James' touch; that kiss in the garage seems like it was years ago instead of only a few weeks. He throws his arms around James' neck. 

"Hammond—" James says breathlessly. 

"Kiss me, you idiot," says Richard, and then saves James the trouble by doing it himself. James tastes of scotch, hot and heady, and the rough scratch of his stubbled jaw against Richard's mouth makes his cock throb. Jeremy's hands go up Richard's back and then down again, curving around his arse-cheeks. Richard groans, a low rumbling noise that rolls up from somewhere deep inside him.

"Christ," Jeremy whispers. His breath ruffles Richard's hair. 

The next few minutes are a blur of traded kisses, in pairs and then all three together, which is messy but weirdly erotic. Jeremy seems unsure of himself at times, hesitant and then suddenly bold, tugging James' hair between his fingers to draw him in or scraping his nails up the side of Richard's neck. Richard pulls at the buttons of Jeremy's shirt and then at James' bow tie, wanting to feel skin. "Off," he mutters. "All of this, off."

James murmurs something in Jeremy's ear with a laugh, and then the two of them reach for Richard at the same time, James pinning his arms behind his back and Jeremy with his hands palmed flat down Richard's chest.

"Oh, god," Richard says. His cock is making a significant bulge in his trousers now – it could hardly be any more obvious how turned on he is just by being caught between them. James' palm is broad and his fingers stretch all the way around both of Richard's wrists together. Richard writhes, letting his cock rub up against Jeremy's thigh. Jeremy tentatively pinches his right nipple, and Richard jerks in surprise as a dart of pleasure zings through him. "Oh, god," he says again, more of a moan than a word. He'd known it would be good, the three of them. How could it not be? But he hadn't known it would be this good, hadn't imagined he'd be shaking so hard with arousal that his teeth practically rattle.

Jeremy's eyes are wide, and he leans down to kiss Richard again, sloppy this time, hands roving over his chest. When he pulls away, Richard is panting. "No fair two on one," he says. 

"And what are you going to do about it?" James puts his free arm around Richard's neck, begins loosening his tie. 

"Leave the tie," Jeremy says, his voice husky. James gives a low chuckle and tugs Richard's lapels out of the loop of the tie, then starts unfastening his buttons. Richard thrashes back against him, more out of principle than from any real desire to get away, and then gives up entirely when Jeremy curls one big hand down over his cock and squeezes.

The noise that comes out of Richard's throat is probably, "Fuck," or as close to as makes no difference.

"What a filthy mouth you have," Jeremy says. He licks his lips.

"You won't mind it when I'm sucking you off," Richard says, with far more bravado than he feels. But it must come across as confident, because Jeremy's cheeks go even redder, and Richard can feel the evidence of his arousal.

"Will you?" James says, low in his ear.

Richard swallows. "Yeah." Jeremy's hand is still on him; Richard finds himself rocking into it, hips turning little helpless circles. He can't wait much longer. "C'mon, Jez. Take us to bed."

It takes them a minute to disentangle themselves. The walk to James' bedroom turns into a laughing race to shuck their clothing along the way – even Richard's tie, although Jeremy gives it a tug as it slides loose – so that by the time they tumble down all together on the bed they are naked. 

Most of it's nothing he hasn't seen before; they've shared enough tents and hotel rooms over the years that James' hairy legs are no surprise, nor the long smooth stretch of Jeremy's back. But he's never experienced either of them quite like this, with his own body, with his hands and his mouth on skin, all pressed together as they play-wrestle for dominance.

Eventually he catches James' eye again and they team up on Jeremy; no one's said as much, but it's obvious that he's the least experienced of the three of them and Richard wants to show him an especially good time – partly just to increase the chances of getting to do this again. James goes back to kissing him, running his hands over Jeremy's chest and tweaking at his nipples, scratching fingernails down over his belly, lightly at first and then harder when Jeremy arches up into it. Richard slides down the bed, gets a hand around Jeremy's cock. 

For a moment he's just a little intimidated – it's been a while since he's had the chance to do this, and Jeremy really has nothing to compensate for – and so he teases a bit first, stroking the length of him and then dipping his head to press a soft kiss to the tip. He draws sloppy circles around the head with his tongue, flickers Jeremy's foreskin back and forth a little until Jeremy is making little panted breaths into James' mouth.

At last Richard parts his lips and just goes for it, taking in as much as he can and sucking slow and hard. Jeremy's groan is everything he could have asked for. His own cock is practically iron at this point, he's that aroused.

"Good, isn't it, Jez?" says James. When Richard looks up, he can see that James has moved to sucking kisses into Jeremy's neck, just below the hinge of his jaw, breaking off every so often to murmur things into his ear. "Can't wait for my turn. Look at him, Jez. He's fucking gorgeous like this."

The praise makes Richard go hot all over, and he groans without really meaning to. "Oh, he likes that," James says, with a low little laugh. "Egotistical little shit. Likes being told how hot he looks. How much we both want to get our hands on him."

Never in Richard's wildest dreams had he imagined that James would be a talker, not like this. It makes his cock throb, makes him feel like he's in on something dark and filthy and secret. He groans again, louder this time, sucking fiercely at his mouthful. 

Jeremy's hand goes to the back of his neck, not pulling at him but just touching, his thumb tracing shuddery patterns against the sweat-soaked skin. Richard meets his gaze from under lowered eyelashes, reveling in the look of desire and astonishment on Jeremy's face. "Oh, fuck," Jeremy says. "Fuck, Hammond. If you could see yourself."

Richard thinks it would be hard to beat his own view – the two of them wrapped up together, Jeremy's hand in James' hair to hold him close as James kisses down the line of his neck. Jeremy's mouth is reddened from kissing, his lips parted. Frankly it's a struggle not to just rub off against the sheets, press his weight down and rut himself until he comes. But what he really wants is to come between them, even if it means he has to wait just a little bit longer.

"Come on, Jez," James says, another soft, sultry murmur. "Let go. Let him have it. He wants it – don't you, Rich?" Richard makes an enthusiastic noise of agreement. James' hand slides down over Jeremy's stomach, and then he is tracing his fingertips across the curve of Richard's cheek, circling his parted lips just where Jeremy's cock is disappearing into them. Richard looses his own hand, letting James take his place.

"Fuck," Jeremy says. "Oh, fuck. James—" His hips are jerking upwards now, little stifled thrusts. "I'm—" he gasps. "I'm close. Richard."

The sound of his name in that rough voice makes Richard moan again, and Jeremy's hand clenches tight around the back of his neck. "Fuck," he says, and, "god," and then, somewhat incongruously, "oh, yes, please," and he comes at last with a shudder and a groan, spattering hot and salty into Richard's mouth. 

Richard sucks him dry, then hangs on for a moment just to feel Jeremy go soft on his tongue. But then Jeremy's grip becomes insistent, and Richard lets the two of them haul him upwards on top of them. 

"That was gorgeous," James says, licking a stripe up Richard's neck to his ear. His lips are warm and shuddery soft against the lobe. "I think that deserves a reward, don't you, Jez?"

"Mmm," Jeremy say, a bit vaguely, but his hand is sliding down Richard's back to his arse, fingers digging in to the curve of him. "C'mere."

Richard wriggles in close and puts his arms around their shoulders. Soon there are two sets of hands touching him – teasing at his nipples, his neck, his thighs. Jeremy presses a sloppy kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Tell us what you want,″ he says, his voice low and rasping, setting Richard's skin to shivering. ″You've been the mastermind all night, Hammond, you must have some grand plan.″

″Mainly— oh, fuck,″ Richard says, as James hooks a foot around his ankle and tugs his legs further apart. ″Mainly, you know. Orgasms. I'm not really the grand plan type.″

Jeremy chuckles. ″No,″ he says. ″More the flying by the seat of your pants type.″

″But Jezza,″ James says, all easy false surprise. ″He isn't wearing any pants.″

″So he isn't,″ Jeremy agrees. 

″You two are a regular laugh riot,″ Richard says, but the last word comes out as a gasp as Jeremy's hand closes on him. 

″Glad you think so,″ Jeremy says. He gives Richard's cock a slow, thorough stroke. James' hand slides down the sweat-drenched skin of his back to his arse, and then down again, slipping between his legs.

″All right?″ James asks. 

Richard nods. ″Yeah,″ he says, rasping the word out. ″Yes. James—″

James' fingertips skate over the edge of his hole, not pressing in but just teasing, exploring. Richard finds himself arching his back, trying to get more of that touch. ″Christ,″ James murmurs, and then, ″Hang on.″ He rolls away and scrabbles in the drawer of the bedside table; Richard decides not to think about James having lube in his bedside table, because if he does, this is going to be over very quickly indeed.

When James' hand comes back it is warm and slick, and he presses in two fingers with barely a moment of warning. Richard groans, setting his forehead to Jeremy's shoulder. ″God.″

″Good?″ Jeremy murmurs, giving his cock another loving stroke. ″You like that?″

″Yeah,″ Richard says. It's almost too much stimulation with both of them touching him; he feels like he's hovering on the edge of going mad. But talking helps, somehow, lets him ground himself in the sound of his own voice. ″You ever tried it?″ At Jeremy's shake of the head – felt more than seen – he keeps going. ″Christ, it's good, Jez, I promise you it's good. It's like that rumble of a great car, getting into your skin, into your bones.″ James is pressing in deeper now, teasing the rim of Richard's hole with his thumb as he slowly rocks his fingers in. ″Fuck,″ Richard says. ″James. _James_.″

″You're so goddamn gorgeous,″ James says, sounding almost reverent. ″So open. Rich—″

″Please fuck me,″ Richard says. 

James doesn't say anything for a moment, and then he leans in and kisses the side of Richard's face, hard. ″Yes,″ he says. ″Yes.″

There is another scramble for position; Jeremy has to help Richard up onto hands and knees above him. Richard can hear the crackle of a condom wrapper but he can't focus on it, can't focus on anything except Jeremy's hands, big and solid and sure against his skin. And then James is pushing slowly into him, thick and hard. Richard's mouth falls open and he sucks in air.

″Richard,″ Jeremy says. 

It takes Richard a moment to hear it over the sound of blood rushing in his ears. ″'m'good,″ he slurs. ″Just—″ His hands are clenched tight into the sheets on either side of Jeremy's shoulders.

Jeremy's eyes are wide, darting from Richard to James and back again like he can't decide where he wants to look most. ″ _Fucking hell_ ,″ he says, and it startles a laugh out of them both.

″Yeah,″ James says. He sounds a bit punch drunk too, and he's holding on to Richard's hips hard enough to bruise. Richard doesn't mind that at all – minds it even less when James pulls back and then starts fucking him in earnest, each thrust sharp and precise. He always forgets how strong James is, under those baggy shirts and worn jeans. After this, he's pretty sure it's going to stay locked in his memory for quite a long time. 

He closes his eyes.

It doesn't take long for either of them. Richard's heart is racing, his breath coming harsh in his throat as James pushes into him again and again. And Jeremy keeps touching him, stroking his chest and his cock in turns, murmuring little appreciative comments, so that it's like he's cocooned in them, wrapped up in wave after wave of pleasure. He can feel James' legs trembling. It's good. It's so unbelievably fucking good. 

When he comes, it is to the feeling of James shuddering against him, the sound of Jeremy's voice in his ear.

After, they slump all together in the bed, sweat-soaked and messy. Jeremy mutters disgruntled things about man fluids, and Richard rubs one filthy hand down his stomach until James gets out of bed with an exaggerated sigh and comes back with a damp cloth

It feels like they're ending the night more or less where they began – minus some clothes, maybe, and plus one award, but aside from any of that they're still together, still laughing. Richard doesn't know if he's ever been happier.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Wyvernchick for helping me locate the exact image I was thinking of.


End file.
